


Close to the Sun

by Kasuchi



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-06
Updated: 2010-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The first time he met her, she smiled very prettily at him and then proceeded to perform a judo throw.</i> Isshin, Masaki, and moments in a life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close to the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://tenebris.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tenebris.livejournal.com/)**tenebris** , with lots of love. ♥

**to have and to hold**

The first time he met her, she smiled very prettily at him and then proceeded to perform a judo throw.

"Oof," he grunted, lying still.

She crouched down beside him. "Sorry," she offered sheepishly. "I always forget my strength."

He blinked up at her upside-down face. "It's okay," he offered and stood up, rubbing his shoulder. "I just hope I'm not on the receiving end of a throw like that every class."

"Oh, I'm not a student right now. I'm doing Sakurai-sensei a favor and helping."

Isshin's eyebrows rose into his hair. "Not a student?"

She nodded, expression vaguely amused.

He grinned, slanted and wry. "Guess I'll count my blessings, then."

She laughed. "All right, come at me."

Isshin struck a pose, arms at right angles to show off his muscles, a fair gleam at the edge of his grin. "You sure? I'm not gonna hold back."

Her expression turned mischievous. "Me either."

Later, after he was bruised and his arm still tingled, she offered him a towel and a lopsided grin.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the proffered towel with his good hand. "You...really didn't hold back."

She shrugged. "It's not in my nature, I guess." She made a half-bow. "I'm Masaki."

"Isshin," he replied, shakily mimicking her bow. "It's nice to meet you."

Her grin widened. "The pleasure is mine."

**from this day forward**

The next time he met her, he was moving from the academy dorms to his barracks. Bags slung over his shoulders, he made his way over to his new quarters, feet moving slowly in the late evening sun.

Suddenly he felt the weight shift and his burden lightened. He pivoted, ready to chase the brat who'd lifted his stuff when he saw that it was Masaki, light hair and bright eyes gleaming in the intense light of sunset.

"You," he said, surprised.

"Me," she replied simply, and hefted one of his bags onto her shoulder. "Where you headed?"

He nodded to the right. "New barracks. I graduated."

"You get any better at _hakuda_?"

He laughed roughly. "Not at throws. I've got a mean corkscrew kick, though."

She fell into step beside him. "I'd like to see that. How do you get the momentum?"

"Running start." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm really good at running."

She laughed, full and low. "That'll serve you well. I heard you made it to, what was it, _fourteenth_ seat?"

"Whatever. I"ll make it to captain."

"Keep on dreaming, Isshin-san. It's not going to happen."

"Is that a challenge?"

"You bet your ass it is."

"Fine. You ready to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He grinned rakishly. "I bet I can make it to at least tenth seat before the decade is up."

Masaki raised an eyebrow. "If I win, I want you to polish the 11th Division dojo. On your own. With your bare hands."

"If I win, I get to take you out on a date."

It was her turn to look surprised. "A date?"

"Yeah, you know. You. Me. Dinner, something romantic. A date."

She stared at him for a moment before her expression shifted into something softer. "Deal."

Seven years later, Isshin was promoted to 9th seat.

**for better, for worse**

Masaki found herself checking her makeup for the eighth time. Though her division's seated officers - her colleagues - had insisted that she looked lovely and would she _stop_ fidgeting, she couldn't help it.

"I've never dated a younger man before!" She made a face through the mirror at Hotarubi, the vice-captain of her division.

Hotarubi rolled her eyes. "Masaki! You're going to have to _calm down_. Seriously. And hold still." She tugged on Masaki's hair.

"Ow! Are you trying to pull it all out?!"

"No pain, no gain!" She tugged Masaki's hair again, but more gently. After a moment, she took a breath. "Wasn't he older than you when he died?" Using a comb, she gathered the long, light tresses and smoothed out bumps from pulling Masaki's hair back.

Masaki sighed. "Well, yes but--"

"And you two spend time together already, don't you?"

"Sure, but--"

"And, well, Masaki," Hotarubi paused in her styling. "You _like_ him. You have for years. Every time he comes by, even with the stupidest of excuses - and, Masaki, some of his excuses have been _transparent_ \- you just...you light up. You like the damned idiot."

Masaki caught the other woman's eyes in the mirror, the looked away sheepishly. "Yeah, okay, you're right."

Across town, Isshin was wearing a hole in the tatami. Or, at least, it seemed that way to Keitaro, eighth seat of the division.

"Isshin, if you do another lap, not only will you set the tatami on fire with your ugly, dry feet, but also _I will kill you again myself_. You're making me dizzy!"

Isshin shot Keitaro a forlorn look and stilled. Well, he stopped pacing. Instead, he fidgeted.

A vein popped out of Keitaro's forehead. "Isshin," he ground out from behind clenched teeth. "Just head over to her place already."

"But I've still got--"

" _Walk slowly_ ," Keitaro pushed him out of the room and slammed the sliding shoji door closed. Isshin stumbled and caught himself. Shooting the silhouette in the rice paper a dirty look, he brushed himself off, straightened his clothes, and slowly took the long way to her residence.

When he arrived, he saw her, backlit against the lamps in her room, hair pulled away from her face and secured with chopsticks. She was staring at the sky but his movements caught his attention, and she smiled at him. He stilled at the radiance of it, disarmed.

"Oi, oi," she called, snapping him out of it. "Let's go! You promised me this would be awesome."

He laughed, hand scratching the back of his head. "Okay, okay. First, dinner." He grinned. "Think you can keep up with my _shunpo_?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Keep up? You'll be lucky if I don't beat you to dinner entirely."

"I think I'll manage," he retorted mildly. "You ready?"

"Hell yes I'm--"

"Go!" With a whoop, he dashed off. Masaki stared for a second before flash stepping away, following the trail of dust behind him. They leaped along meandering, maze-like streets until Isshin took to the rooftops, Masaki just steps behind him. He taunted her, and she shouted that she was going to beat his ass when she got her hands on him. Then he made an innuendo, she blushed and shouted loudly. He laughed and ran faster, he sound of her robes whipping against the wind comfortably close.

They climbed to higher ground, leaping to higher roofs to running along a wall. Then, Isshin leaped into a tree, balanced on a sturdy limb before leaping to another, and she matched his steps carefully. The trees swayed and bent with the impact of their weight. Isshin did his best to make sure she didn't lose track of him, full moon and stars notwithstanding.

He came to a sudden stop on a wooden platform in the branches of one of the tallest trees in Seireitei. He turned to greet her, but she misjudged the platform and ended up crashing into him, knocking them both flat. She groaned, warm body still against his. "You okay?"

He chucked (she could feel the vibrations against her cheek, and his abdomen shook in time with his laughter) and repled, "Yeah. A little bruised, but I've suffered through worse. Not that this is suffering, really..."

She rolled off of him and sat up with a groan. "Sorry, sorry. You okay?"

He sat up as well and ran his knuckles along her sleeve, a small gesture of comfort. "I'm fine, it's all right." He grinned and pulled out a large picnic basket from behind him. "Look, how about we have dinner?"

She lit up. "A picnic?"

He grinned. "I don't trust the cook in our division."

"Given his penchant for poisons, I'm not surprised."

Isshin laughed. "Exactly." From the depths of the basket he pulled out onigiri wrapped in seaweed and paper, bamboo boxes filled with sushi and nigiri, and covered containers of cold soba. From the bottom he lifted out several large _tokkuri_ flasks and two _ochoko_.  
Masaki perked up. "You brough sake?"

"Complements of the Shiba clan," he said, setting the ceramicware down gently. "One more thing," he said, michievous glint in his eyes. In a flash, he stood up and unfurled a blanket on the expanse of the platform. Smoothing out the wrinkles, he gestured for her to settle in comfortably. Laughing, she shifted until she was seated comfortably on the soft fabric, feet folded politely under her. Isshin upended the picnic basket, its wooden base serving as an informal table for the sake.

Together, they drank and ate what Isshin had brought. She punched him in the arm once for making a crack about her division, and he regaled her with tales of the ridiculous antics of the 11th. The last story, involving a kilo of chicken feathers, birthday cake, and a chain of hammers, had her laughing so hard, she toppled over (that was likely more the sake than the story) and clutched her stomach. Isshin cleared the empty sake bottled away, stashing them in the picnic basket and setting it aside, before laying out beside her. As her laughter faded and her breathing evened out, her eyes flicked across the wide expanse of the night sky.

"Did you build this?"

"Aa," he replied, avoiding her gaze by drawing constellations. "I'd known for about a month that I was getting the promotion. I wanted to take you somewhere where we could see to the horizon." He half-smiled and glanced at her for a second. "Guess I should've built it higher, huh?"

Masaki scoffed. "Any higher and we'd be on Soukyoku Hill." She paused and smiled, the sweet smile that she so rarely used. "I'm really glad you made this, Isshin." Then, carefully, she twined her fingers with his.

**for richer, for poorer**

When she emerged from the training courtyard, sweaty and disshevelled, she was surprised to find him leaning casually against one of the buildings, a cigarette in hand.

"What're you doing here?"

"What, I can't come greet my girlfriend when she's done for the day?"

She felt a frission of pleasure run down her spine at the word _girlfriend_ and grinned easily at him. "You're smoking."

He shrugged and pushed off of the wall, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with a toe. "I'm already dead." He shrugged comically, arms bent at the elbow and hands palm-up.

She laughed and hooked her arm with his. They walked a ways in silence, the crowds of people thinning as they walked on. When they were in a secluded, shady area, Isshin stopped and leaned against a tree. Masaki stood beside him, shoulders touching.

He let out a long breath. "I heard you were up for a promotion."

She nodded. "My new captain wants me to be his second-in-command." Her brows knit together. "How did you hear? I was going to tell you tonight."

"Seta-taichou told me."

"Why?"

"He wants me to take our open vice-captain position, too."

"Oh," she murmured, and leaned her head back against the tree. "What else is bothering you?"

He sighed and she heard his clothes rustle as he shifted. "I don't know if we can keep seeing each other if we're both vice-captains." She heard a _fffft_ sound and turned to see him lighting a cigarette, shaking a lit match until it blew out. He took a long drag and blew it out slowly.

"We'll be okay," she replied at last. "What can they do, kick us out?" Gently she took his hand and laced her fingers with his. "I'm okay as long as I'm with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She reached with her other hand and took the cigarette from him and took a drag of her own before handing it back. He took another long drag, the end flaring orange-red as he inhaled. She flushed with pleasure as she watched him, strong hands and gentle mouth on display before her.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow and she realized that she'd been caught staring.

She smirked. "You look really hot when you're smoking."

He blinked at her. "Is that a pun?"

"No, I'm serious." She paused long enough for him to look smug. "It keeps me from having to focus on your ugly face."

"Masaki," he whined. "You're so mean to me!"

"Idiot," she tossed back, and curled into his side.

**in sickness and in health**

"You're sick," she said flatly, hands on her hips and eyebrow arched.

"Haib not!" Isshin insisted. "Haibe fide, hy swear." He then sneezed loudly.

Masaki rolled her eyes and knelt down next to his futon. "Stop it. You're sick."

"Haib not sick! Hy juss feel hoth and coldh, h'and a little achy."

"Right, and the sneezing and the chills you have are just, what, allergies?"

He nodded, expression earnest.

She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and shook her head. "You're running a temperature. No, you're staying here." She frowned. "And don't try to sneak off!"

Isshin pouted.

Masaki rose with whoosh. "I'm going to get you some soup." She padded out of the room, sliding the shoji panel close behind her.

He groaned and pushed off the blankets she'd layered on top of him. With a moan, he grabbed his zanpakuto, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and stood up straight.

...Only to sway and fall with a _whump_ back onto his futon. He groaned and pulled himself to a sitting position. "Damb hith..."

"Tch, you should have listened to me." Masaki set the tray she carried down on a low table and knelt beside Isshin's sprawled form. "Come on, give me your sword." She held out her hand expectantly. Reluctantly, he handed her his sword, scabbard and all. Gently, she leaned it against the wall near his head. "Now, come on. I brought you miso soup with daikon and tofu, and ginger tea."

He gazed forlornly at the shoji and then turned his gaze to her.

"The new recruits can wait," she said firmly. "Urashima can handle them on his own. If nothing else, he'll work them into the ground for a couple of days." She grinned. "It'll be like good shinigami, bad shinigami."

"Buth--"

"No buts!" She nodded firmly. "Now here, have some soup."

He made a pitiful face at her and mimed spoon-feeding.

She huffed a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, okay, I'll feed you, you great big baby." She lifted the lid on the soup and blew on it. "Hold your head steady," she instructed, and pressed the lip of the cup against his bottom lip, tipping it forward and letting him sip. His eyes flicked to her face once or twice. She lowered the bowl and grabbed the chopsticks, fishing out the pieces of daikon and holding them out to him. "Say 'aaah,'" she teased.

Later, he rose from a fitful nap. "M'saki? Masaki?"

He felt a cold cloth against his forehead. "Go back to sleep, dear." He drifted off with the feeling of fingers tangling in his hair.

Much, much later, Isshin stirred. It was dark save for the moonlight filtering in through the rice-paper panels. Sitting up, he glanced around the room and saw her curled up against the low table, legs folded beneath her and breath low and steady.

His mouth quirked upwards into a small smile. Readjusting his blankets, he quietly shifted back under the covers and slept until morning.

**to love and to cherish**

As he watch Masaki hold their son - _their son_ \- in her arms, Isshin felt like he'd been run over by a truck. They, they had created _this_ , this miraculous creature that represented all of the love they had between them.

He held out a finger. Chubby arms reached out and impossibly small fingers tugged gently on the end of his finger. Isshin pulled away and gently ran his fingers through the short, spiky shock of orange hair, gently ran a forefinger along Ichigo's cheek. Ichigo laughed, toothless gums flashing as he reached out towards Isshin.

Isshin pulled away and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Isshin? What is it?" Masaki shifted Ichigo's weight and ran two knuckles along his arm in a comforting gesture. "What's wrong?"

He sniffed, loudly, and smiled at her. "Nothing, I just can't believe I have a son." He took a shaky breath. "I have a son. It sounds unreal."

She smiled at him, expression softening with affection. "Come here," she said and tugged on his sleeve. He moved toward her, and she cupped his cheek and touched their foreheads together. "You have a son," she whispered fiercely, and kissed his temple, lips warm and lingering.

His hand came up to cover hers, and he pressed a kiss into her palm. "We have a son," he repeated. Then he grinned, lips arching against her skin, and laced his fingers with hers. "Should we try for a girl?"

**till death us do part**

"Isshin?"

"Mmm?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Promise me something?"

He blinked blearily a few times before rolling onto his side and propping himself up with an elbow, careful to not crush their son between them. "What is it?"

Stomach round with pregancy, Masaki lay on her back on the bed they shared. She turned her head towards him, hair swishing against the pillow. "Will you promise to die after me?"

His mouth went dry. "What brought this on?"

Her hand absently ran over her abdomen. "I've lost too many people in my life. I couldn't take it if I lost you, too."

"Masaki..."

"Please, Isshin? For their sake, promise me?"

His eyes searched her face for a long moment. "I promise," he said at last, and leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth. "But you know, we're going to live forever."

_With my body I honour you,_  
all that I am I give to you,  
and all that I have I share with you 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Title is a reference to the myth of Icarus. For the record.
> 
> 2\. Much love to my beta reader, [](http://raynos.livejournal.com/profile)[**raynos**](http://raynos.livejournal.com/) because this wouldn't be the same without her.
> 
> 3\. As mentioned above, written for [](http://tenebris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tenebris**](http://tenebris.livejournal.com/) as a gift. This was originally going to be an Eyes interlude, but ehhhh. This is probably better anyway.
> 
> 4\. For those of you unaware, the bold text is from the traditional marriage vows. I realized later, well after I'd written this, that I've used the conceit before. Whatever, it's a good tool and it's _inspiring_ or some such.


End file.
